


Story Of Life

by cryinghoe



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1800s - Present Day, Chicago Inspired Chapter, Every Chapter Is A New Story, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lots of Women, Marijuana, Multi, One Man, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, generations, women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:19:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryinghoe/pseuds/cryinghoe
Summary: Every chapter is a new story. Let these chapters take you through a short story each time you read. First time I've written something like this, but I thought it was a fun idea. Some chapters may not be accurate to times since I wasn't born in the 1830s or 1950s but I try my hardest. My writing style will most likely change from chapter to chapter, just to keep things entertaining. I hope you enjoy.





	1. Candle Light Readings

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place in the Industrial Era. Specifically 1830. This might not be accurate to what the times were actually like, but I do try my hardest.

I.

 

The sound of the door opening from downstairs is what caused Helen’s ears to perk up in attention from her book on Math. She thought that it must have been Mother, just by the way her Father’s voice immediately echoed throughout the quiet house.  Her eyes looked at her reflection in the wooden vanity in front of her. Father had built it quite some time ago when she was a young child. Pale skin tone, olive green eyes, and when there were gentle knocks on her door, her gaze went from the reflection to the door.

“You may enter.” Helen responds softly, not one for loud tones.

Her mother peered from behind the door and the girl stood immediately.

“Your father is upset,” Arms are opened and the daughter rushes into her arms.

Comforting, yes. Her mother, Elizabeth, faintly smells of the factory. A metallic scent that never seems to be comforting. It makes her upset to smell it on her mother, but it wasn’t fixable. Not in these times.

“Why is he upset?” Helen asks, resting her head on her shoulder.

“The usual reason,” Elizabeth’s tone is soft as if a secret is being passed, “I should stop working but the men who work at the factories won’t hire men.”

Helen knew exactly why they wouldn’t hire men. It was quite rude of them to do that and it just showed the human’s mind when it was consumed with nothing but greed. 

“I can’t exactly quit either.” Her mother sounds sad, full of emotions, “Because there needs to be food on the table. Clothes for you… Too many reasons are at gunpoint if I were to just up and leave.”

“You’d be at gunpoint.” Helen’s voice is muffled by her mother’s shirt.

That comment leaves a silence between the two before they break away from each other.

“Mother,” The daughter speaks up once more, “Can’t you… slowly quit?”

“Weren’t you just going on about me getting killed?” A playful banter caused them both to chuckle slightly.

“Well, yes, but… Aren’t we,” Helen looks up to her mother, “...wealthy enough to provide for ourselves?”

“...My daughter,” Elizabeth cups her daughters face, eyebrows furrowing, “You are impeccably smart and I know you are. But, that would be so illogical.”

“But, would it really?” Their eyes are at level, “I’m smarter than most boys my age. Most girls don’t even have the chance to get the education that I have been so blessed with. I can handle money and I know we’re not… poor, necessarily-”

“Helen.” A stern voice stops her mid-sentence. 

“...Yes?” 

A silence is passed between the two. The daughter has hope in her eyes, the gleam has not left yet because Elizabeth is the one working. She knows the realities that the family is facing and as educated as Helen really is… There is just so much hidden.

The silence is turning awkward rapidly.

Elizabeth steps away, brushing herself momentarily of the permanent dirt on her clothes. “I apologize if I ruined your white gown.”

Helen didn’t even put that into consideration- but the love for her mother trumps any sort of dirt that would be left on her white gown that was taxed too highly to be realistic. But, that conversation was just… dropped. It riled her.

“Don’t, Mother. It’s just an article of clothing that I have copies of.” Helen excuses it, smiling.

“If you say so. I am going to go change and help your father with dinner. I’ll call you when it’s completed. I love you, my darling.” Her mother kisses her forehead, walking towards the door.

“I love you too, Mother.” Helen returned the saying as her door closed.

-.-

“Helen!” Her Father’s baritone voice called for her, making her lift her head out of a book, “Dinner is being served!”

Snapping the book close, she tossed it to the side of her bed and quietly walked from her bedroom to the kitchen. Making sure that she wasn’t too rough, since this house was old and making a lot of noises. Plenty of creeks to fool her mind into thinking that her weight was an issue and was causing the creeks, but that was far from the truth. When Helen entered the kitchen, her parents were filling up glasses of water.

“Mother, Father,” Her tone is nervous, since she hated not eating with her family but she was in the middle of studying.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Her father, James, says, turning around with a glass of water in his hand.

“I was wondering if I could skip the meal tonight. Of course I would eat later, but, I wish to finish my studies if that is acceptable.” Her head is looking at the wooden floor board, expecting a negative responses.

“I could never say no to the brightest daughter any Father could ask for. Just make sure to eat, okay?” He nods as her mother quietly goes to the dinner table.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I love you both.” She’s already rushing to the library that’s in the basement of the house.

“We love you too!” Her mother calls after her, her voice turning into sweet nothings as Helen runs down the basement stairs with her dress in her hands.

-.-

She has lit five candles- a waste some might say, but it is hard enough to see in that old dusty library. There are so many unexplored books in the library, and it is strange that the builders put a house atop(in her opinion). Helen comes here nearly everyday yet… there are so many untouched and peaceful items down here. Her most recent books have been Romeo and Juliet, a newfound favorite of hers recently because of the unrealisticness. William Shakespeare was an author that Helen found herself repeatedly going back to, since there were so many books of his in this library. The 95 theses by Martin Luther himself was something she had not completed. It was difficult for her, but Helen loved a challenge. Frankenstein had recently come out, about twenty years ago… Not exactly, but close to twenty. Perhaps tonight she would read some Voltaire. She enjoyed his satire about the King and honestly, he deserved better if you were to get into a debate about it with Helen.

Walking over to one of her five candles, she picks it up and goes to find Voltaire… It’s harder in this light, since it is nighttime. There were windows, but what good are windows for searching when it is pitch black outside? Well, it isn’t entirely black since the pollution made the sky gray. That angered the fire of Helen. To know that so many medical issues were being transferred around through the oxygen and Doctors didn't even know what to do- it was simple and all you had to do was read. But, if she were to go out and around saying that there were some simple solutions, like take your fucking factories down, you bigoted sexists pigs- people would want her burned! She was just saying popular opinion, and every woman knew that--

Ah, finally! Her eyes laid on Voltaire, seeing only a couple of books. Candide, which was always a good enjoyable read… Henriade wasn’t terrible. Some books didn’t even have the covers and she couldn’t figure out what they were even if she took time to read it. He loved to be funny when he would pick his quill up and write profusely. But, never really mentioned the name of the title too much…

Candide will have to do for now. It would give her brain enough of a challenge for reading and comprehending, but it wouldn’t stretch her knowledge like it did the first time when she read it… Picking the old book up carefully, she walked back over to her little spot on the floor in the corner and huddled into the blankets there. 

The candles were far away enough to create one big light, but not close enough to burn. Thank god, she would not want anything to burn in this library. Even if it showed history being awful, or Satan in ways that nobody asked for- it was apart of something big. It needed to stay because not everything was good. But not everything is bad.

Her eyes follow the French words, comprehending most of them. But, something in her mind is just not caring... May it be her limbic system, telling her to shut down and stop reading. The flame was gentle and moving back and forth, something for her eyes to focus on instead of reading.

“Stop it,” She uttered to nobody in particular, “I need to read. I need to keep my intellectual level up or else I will end up useless.”

That got her brain right back onto track. Reading one humorous line after the next wasn’t boring. It just wasn’t the idea of fun according to most people. The term ‘Fun’ was always loose. It depended on what the person was like. If your name was Helen Mines, then your idea of fun was reading until the early AMs, finally realising that you should head to bed, and then you head to bed! It was gross to go around and play in factories, she doesn’t want to get reprimanded by some cop. According to some word in the streets however, you could probably get away with it if you were rich- which is so false. Wealth does not determine your personality, your experiences and how you hold yourself do.

Such strong opinions for a sixteen year old. Her eyes followed the lines of his writing for the next couple of pages rather strongly. But the next couple of lines were dizzy. Not as important to her brain. The dim lighting wasn’t helping, nearly seeming dark. There was nothing but the sound of her softly breathing…

Maybe closing your eyes for a couple of minutes…

Wouldn’t hurt anybody…

Besides, sleep rejuvenates the body… 


	2. Money Earning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the Implied Sex comes into play. Nothing horrible, so don't worry! Chicago inspired, if I'm honest! Have a nice time reading. This chapter is taking place in 1924!

II.

 

Her dressing room door slams close immediately, forcing the suitcase open. She had the closing act of the night, tonight. Had to make the crowd dizzy and loopy- intoxicated with her loveliness. That was never hard when you’re a flapper, especially by the name of Ruth Barbara.

A curvy brunette with brown eyes, good vocal cords and good at attracting both genders to her. Around the age of her late twenties, but didn’t look a day past 16(as some creep told her).

Slipping into her flappers dress, it had no sleeves, resting just above her bust. It rested there perfectly as if her body was made to hold this article of clothing. It was silver and bedazzled, a small diamond cut portion right below her chest revealing her navel. There was still cloth around that area and it continued to her legs, cutting off triangular in the middle of her thigh. It allowed a lot of movement and for completion, she wore stockings with small bits of glitter in them.

Ruth took a moment to glance at herself in the large mirror that went from floor to ceiling, adjusting her stockings slightly. Her eyes scanned herself up and down, before gasping.

“Shit,” She turns to her suitcase, seeing makeup.

The chair next to her suitcase had the white fur coat that she had asked for Chuck(her manager) to get her. She slips it on, it perfectly completing the look.

“Now I look hot.” Ruth clicks her tongue at herself in the mirror, grabbing her black kitten heels.

Sitting on the floor, she begins to do her eyeshadow. A light shimmer shade should do, she wants the attention to be on her. Nobody else. The pianist? No. The band? Absolutely not! But her? Oh yes, her. All her attention. Every man and woman watching her dance purposely for them! Oh, how she loved being the center of attention…

“Hey doll face!” Chuck’s rough voice scared her and so did his knock.

“What?” She yells and rushes to the door to open it.

“Your act-” He eyed her when the door opened, “Is up. I would suggest getting there while intro starts…” He ends in a sigh, leaning against the door.

“Chuckie,” She coos, “Go sit in the crowd. I ain’t lettin’ ya touch it.”

“I could fire you,” He teases, “if you don’t.”

“You wouldn’t. I’m your best.” Ruth slinks under his arm, walking quickly to the stage riser.

 

-.-

 

Standing on that riser for five minutes was not ideal. Apparently there was a small issue in the crowd and that was upsetting.

But, it’s whatever, because now her name is being called…

“Next on stage… Last, if you will… Ruth Barbara!” A deep voice announced, running shivers down her spine.

Whoops followed as the riser lifted her onto the stage.

The pianist and the band were moved so that it was specifically… just… her.

The stage was dark, trumpets ringing for the intro. Her figure was darker than the gray shade that was the backdrop and the entire crowd was silent. Drums joined in, making a jazz tune. The piano was accompanying the bass, so it wasn’t loud. The jazzy tune was coming to a stop as the piano and trumpets took over. The crowd was slowly lighting as it became only piano and drums…

“There’s one thing we’d all wish to have…” She stood frozen on the stage, hip popped out and her having eye contact with the light that blinded her, “...wish to grab…” 

She walked forward, slowly and with her hips swinging back and forth more dramatically, “Let me hear your clap.”

Rhythmic claps followed the sway of her hips and the small claps of her hands.

Silence filled the theatre when she stopped moving. Blinking her eyes dramatically. Everything was dramatic and hot on stage.

“You want a wife!” She sung out, left arm throwing out and hand grabbing towards the ceiling, “To improve ya’ life!” Her other arm reached out, hand reaching to the ceiling.

Both of her arms slowly lowered, the band rioting and quieting, before her hands went under her chin, “Think about me! What if I was your wife?”  
The crowd screamed in the thought and she began to dance, singing more with her hips. Men were watching her intently, not many women at the show tonight. Must’ve been why she was called because she often made the wives jealous. She knows exactly why, and that was because she was Summer and they were Winter. Everyone likes Winter at first but… who doesn’t prefer Summer over Winter?

“Oh-ho, so you want me?” She sung in a certain voice as she got on her knees in front of a table.

The man’s eyes were wide as she grabbed his drink.

“Well baby, get on your knees,” She looked him up and down, dipping her finger into his drink, “Show me how you please!” She wiped the liquid on his lips, giving him a simple and cute wink.

-.-

 

Walking back to her room, she rolled her neck and sighed. Ruth opened the door and turned to close it and there was a woman sitting on the couch.

“Hey, Ruth, babydoll.” Her voice was sweet, like honey.

“Victoria-” Ruth excitedly spoke, with a grin.

“You missed me, eh?” Victoria laughed as she was in a hug.

“I missed you so much, you idiot…” She groaned.

“Get on the couch, you’d had such a long day…” Victoria pushed her to the couch, “I’m gonna help you relax…”

“A Flapper does so much work…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was your wife - Ruth Barbara
> 
> There’s one thing we’d all wish to have…  
> Wish to grab…  
> Now, let me hear you clap!
> 
> You want a wife!  
> To improve ya’ life!  
> Think about me!  
> What if I was ya wife?
> 
> I can cook n’ clean,  
> I could never be mean,  
> Foreva’ your queen!  
> Oh-ho, so you want me?  
> Well, baby, get on your knees, show me how you please…
> 
> I could never be your wife,  
> it’s just my way of life!  
> Now, don’t have strife-  
> Because I am not the perfect housewife!
> 
> -.-
> 
> I didn't include all of the lyrics, but only the ones I liked. Yeah, I wrote this. My name is not Ruth, though. Gave the character credit where credit is due. This was the song she was singing. :)


End file.
